Tempting Fate
by therussianpunk
Summary: 1920's hotel AU. I tried to write angst, I don't know if it worked or not, so have fun. (strange fluffy/angsty shit.) Please review


**A/N: Really fucking long so have fun.**

If the times had been different when he saw her, he could've easily ignored her. He was engaged, unhappily, but he was a generally good man, loyal and strong. But he was not better at that time and that exact scenario lead him to her. It could've easily been her smile of her laugh as she and her partner pulled heartstrings and winked at the audience.

He first saw her in the bar. She and her partner were dancing and singing, the lonely people of the smogged room clapping and cheering. They were dancing swing and danced well. Her golden-blonde hair jumping with her and her green eyes lighting up the room like a snake in corn. They wore black, her partner with white hair and strange sharp teeth. He had never danced swing nor had he ever seen a girl act and laugh like that. His very modest upbringing and limited knowledge of this strange girl lead him to her as well. The way she was comfortable with the man yet, there was no ring on her finger, the way she let him lift her and swing her about, and the way they both laughed. They finally bowed, and her square dress with small twinkly strings swooped down as well. They both panted and everybody applauded, they walked off stage and people parted. They glowed like candles and as they approached Kid and his bag of food for his own room and the pissy woman who was there. He felt pathetic even in their presence, they were electric like a sign in Vegas. They were so modern, and if he touched them, he would be zapped. He had such a traditional upbringing, _don't do this with a woman…_ or _women shouldn't dress like this…_ And yet here she and her partner stood, not afraid of the power they had over the audience's hands and not afraid of each other.

"Beer." She said and slid into a seat, her bare legs hanging so close to Kid's own trousers. He did not want to go, he was fascinated with the both of them.

"Two." The partner said.

"You'll have to pay tonight." The man on the other said and she pouted. He glared at both of them, they were friends, they were customers, and yet had a connection.

"Come on Simon. For me?" She traced his knuckles and his face grew steadily red. Kid just watched this from the last bar stool. "Please." She kissed his hand and he groaned.

"I hate both of you."  
"Aw, love you too Simon." She winked and her and her partner giggled. She had seduced a man for something in return. Kid just stared at her once again, in total awe. If his religious nanny was here, she would say she was a whore. If his fiancé was here, she would say she was going to hell. If he was in his right mind, he would've pitied her. He wasn't though and he was so in love with them. She took an exasperated drink from the brown bottle and talked to her partner. She then flipped her hair over towards Kid and both of them peered at him. "Who's he, Simon?" She said so all the residents of the red bar could hear her.

"Don't know. Boy, who are you?"

"Death the Kid."

"Well, Soul, I believe Death the Kid would like to dance. Would you?" He stared at her, her fragile face and he thought about his fiancé and shook his head.

"No, thank you."

"Oh no, come on. It'll be fun." She stood, and rested her elbow on the bar as she waited for his response. "Please, you wouldn't deny a lady a dance, would you? Not very gentlemanly of you." The raven haired boy sighed.

"Just one dance?" She nodded and grabbed him, running with joy and a spring in her step she grabbed his shoulder and hand and began to dance quickly. She then shifted to his waist and took the lead. Kid then tripped over one shoe and she laughed, he smiled.

"Tell me, Death the Kid, about yourself."

"I have a fiancé. I don't love her."

"Is that why you're here?" She trailed me and we both laughed as I ducked under her arm.

"No, she wanted food. I don't want to go back." _Not to that life_ , he thought.

"Well then, Death the Kid, we shall have a blast while we can." She was right. The girl with the electric hum and the eyes like snakes danced with him for a long time until he was finally too dizzy to carry on, then her partner took over and danced with her. They watched Kid drink a beer and they both started to cry when he spat it out over the counter.

"That's foul," He shouted in drunken humor.

"Chug it, my dear," She said, the feather out of her head bobbing. Simon lit a cigarette and passed it to her partner, he puffed like a dragon and handed it to her. She gasped for air and let out a mighty roar, it filled Kid's lungs and he laughed as he took his own huff of the white tube. "Shall we dance again?"

"I will barf all over you."

"Then you shall barf, we have both seen worse." They started to laugh and Simon said something and his head sagged onto the desk. "Oh, poor boy, he's tired."

"I don't think he likes beer. Responsible boy."

"Silly boy," Simon said.

"Shall we get him home?" She asked and her white haired partner pulled up the man on his shoulder, the smaller girl taking his other arm. Dropping him off at the suite, they dropped one bag of requested food. Placing a red lipped kissed print on a napkin she dropped it into his pocket and they, the modern angels departed from his life once more.

He saw her again. She was sitting by the pool, in a large hat and was reading. Her dark blonde hair corrupting his heart and he walked to her. The palm trees exploded over them and she finally looked over. She folded her book and looked at him.

"Death the Kid?"

"I don't know your name."

"That's cause I never do tell it. It's a mystery you see, if I told you, you wouldn't ask me nor talk to me."

"I would."

"Promise?" She stuck out her pinky and he shook it with his own. "Maka Albarn."

"Pleasure."

"Say Death the Kid, where is your fiancé today?"

"Out getting postcards or something. People call me Kid by the way."

"Well, Kid, are you free this afternoon?"

"I suppose."

"We shall do something then."

"Maka, tell me about you."

"I already told you my name," she held his face, "and that's special treatment. See you this afternoon. I'll find you."

They went to a lighthouse. They climbed 509 steps and fell on the cracked floor when they arrived at the top. The lighthouse was on a hill, frosted with cliffs of brown and red and green grass shading the car they took. She pulled herself onto the window, large and arched, and looked over the ocean. It was teal and angry, the white tips like the teeth of the gods and the clouds mixing with the blissed ocean that went on and on. They were the only witnesses. She placed one foot onto the ledge and smashed her face against the old creaking glass.

"You'll fall, Maka."

"Tempt fate with me, Kid." She held out her hand. "Lets die young." He took her hand. If he was in his normal mindset, he would've said no. His fiancé would have said she was on ecstasy. His nanny would have beaten her. He said yes and they pushed their bodies against the glass to see the ocean. She leaned back and opened the window and they laughed at how near death was. It loomed under the lighthouse, roaming about the cliffs. The breeze danced with them and she screamed, a happy high scream and she grabbed his hand and raised it to the air and they screamed together, until his throat hurt and she was breathless. She pulled him down the steps, quickly and he fell down them as she flew down them. Out the wooden broken door, across the green field like her snakey eyes, and onto a cliff that lead into the ocean. The water was dark here with deepness and she stripped off her jacket and shoes and over dress. He did the same, her witch powers of his hands making sure he took off his vest and jacket and shoes. They dropped these things and she smiled.

"We will die."

"Then die with me." She said and kissed him, grabbing his hand and running. He was frozen and touching his lips, and they fell. Looking back on her and his times with her, he believed that it was when he fell in love and then into the dark cold ocean. They clung to each other and and the cold water sloshed into their noses, their backs aching and she cried as her head surfaced. Their hands linked, their bodies linked, their hearts aching. She laughed and he choked on the air. He kissed her again as they sat there, bobbing like apples and she cried into his face and he coughed into hers as they kissed and dragged themselves to shore. Their bodies cold and hurting and sore and broken, but happy, oh so happy. They threw themselves onto the sand and linked hands once more and she laughed and he coughed and rolled over.

"Kid?"

"God, I'm so happy Maka. I haven't ever been this happy. Maka," he gasped with laughter and he kissed her forehead, "tempt fate with me again."

"Kid." She said and rolled over in the bed, elbowing him. His hair growing like vines from his pretty head. "Kid."

"Maka, where are you going?"

"I ordered room service for you. Toast and coffee." She said as she shoved her clothing into a suitcase, the leather one with her name painted on it. "Goodbye Kid." She dropped something on the armoire and put on her jacket and the door slammed with a heartbreaking bang and the silence devoured him. He didn't move. He didn't move for what felt like hours. He wanted to move, but he just let out small sobs of not tears and choked on his own heartbeat. He just stared at the eggshell letter and the small teal box, next to the shimmering plates of toast and the glass bottle of dark brown coffee. He did not move from the bed and just counted the cracks in the yellow roof. 31 large ones and 86 smaller ones. He traced his lips and his hands and his jaw, as if memorizing everywhere she had ever touched.

He wished he could've at least been surprised. He was not. It wasn't like being in love with a showgirl could change anything. It couldn't break up an engagement ten years in the making. He wished she stayed, next to him, he wished he could've gone with her. He began to hate her, while he laid in her old rented bed. He hated her for making him love her, for making his heart ache, for giving him hope. One month in the making for this scam. One whole month he had fallen for her dirty tricks. What an idiot.

He hated her.

He missed her.

He loved her.

The coffee tasted like nothing, the toast only crunched and he felt nothing as he sat there, leaning into the wall and clutching the letter with her handwriting. He clutched the ring. The ring that was in the box on the chest with the mirror that was dusty. The curtains fluttered and he gasped with no tears and the silence that ate away at his being. He looked at the two small rings, they were skulls, minimalistic in the design, yet well thought out. Two for his own symmetry and clunkier than a marriage ring. Not a marriage ring, yet more than a trinket. Yet more than a marriage ring, more than any jewelry out there. Made of the electricity and the laughter that coursed through her blue blooded veins and her eyes that grew on him. Made of the very hatred he had for her.

Made of the love they _had_ shared.

Made of the love they _have_.


End file.
